


State-of-the-Art Trash Robot: a Love Story

by melodiousb



Series: The Continuing Adventures of Trash Robot [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, New York Rangers, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodiousb/pseuds/melodiousb
Summary: Chris is like a Roomba, but bigger.





	State-of-the-Art Trash Robot: a Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this on twitter, and I haven't done a lot to it, so if it feels kind of choppy that's my excuse.
> 
> This is partially Ras' fault.

Kevin is saving, like his parents told him to, but he’s making a ridiculous amount of money, and there’s a lot left. He's got a car, and a fancy sound system, and every video game system there is. And he doesn’t like to live alone, but he’s got an apartment with his brother in Boston and a three-story penthouse with Jimmy and Brady in New York. And now he wants a robot, and he can afford it, so why not? It’s not like it’s a toy. It cleans, and incinerates trash, and pulls the weather report off the internet for you in the morning. It'll be a good joke on the boys, too—they’ve got garbage cans now, but it’ll still be funny to have a robot dumpster follow them around.

The robot arrives in a tall wooden crate, delivered by a technician who helps them unpack it and get it set up. It looks really human, even after the tech has shown them where to peel its skin back to access the buttons on its back and the containers for cleaning products in its side. It’s tall, but not as tall as Kevin. Handsome, but not as handsome as Brady. When they turn it on, it seems even more human. He—it laughs easily, and talks like it swallowed a dictionary, and Jimmy names it Chris after a guy in one of his language classes at Harvard.

Kevin imagined it following Brady and Jimmy around, but somehow Chris always seems to be where Kevin is. It's like he knows who owns him, Kevin thinks. He shakes his head. No, Chris is—it's a robot. If he's programmed to follow his owner around, that's not nice, it's creepy. It’s easy to forget that Chris is a robot, though. He doesn't talk like a machine. He definitely doesn't smile like a machine. Kevin doesn't know why you'd make a robot's eyes crinkle at the corners when it smiles, but he can never help smiling back.

Chris watches their games—or downloads them, or whatever—and he seems eager to talk about them when they get home. He’s helpful around the house—of course he is, that’s what he’s for. But he’s kind of low key about it, and there’s nothing disapproving about the way he picks up after all of them. 

Kevin kicks Jimmy and Brady out of the kitchen when he cooks, because they make fun of him—they’re just jealous that he can feed himself without a credit card—but he likes having Chris there. Chris will sit on the counter, swinging his legs and waiting for Kevin to toss him vegetable ends or wadded up paper towels to catch in his mouth. He laughs at all of Kevin’s dumb jokes and catches him up on the news and always sounds really smart about it, like it’s not just about being able to access the internet with his robot brain.

"It doesn't like you," Kevin reminds himself constantly. "It can't." But it's hard to connect "it" with Chris, who's chatting with Gracia while he sucks a bloodstain out of one of Kevin's socks. And it's hard to remind himself that Chris's smile when he looks up and sees Kevin standing in the doorway is just software. The season is fully underway now, and Kevin is tired most of the time, so finally he decides to stop stressing himself out and just enjoy Chris's company. 

Chris is great company. It's nice to come home to his sharply observed comments on Kevin's games, to know he'll have coffee waiting when Kevin wakes up. More and more often he'll skip hanging out with Brady and Jimmy to watch a movie and share some popcorn with Chris. (Kevin eats the popcorn. Chris eats the paper microwave bag and the unpopped kernels.) On nights when Kevin cooks just for himself, Chris sits across from him and cleans the cooking utensils while Kevin eats. It's homey and companionable, even though watching Chris clean out a clear baking dish with his tongue can be distracting.

 

Chris doesn't sleep. Jimmy says it's creepy, the way he'll stand in the corner, eyes blank, waiting to be woken by a timer or a touch or the sound of his name. Kevin doesn't mind it, but he asks Chris to go into standby mode on the couch instead, and Jimmy says that helps a little.

Kevin thinks Chris's standby mode is a little broken, anyway. Sometimes he’ll wake up by himself, to chat when Kevin comes in late, or to bring him a bottle of gatorade when Kevin comes home drunk. 

When Kevin gets sick in November, Chris orders tissues and cold medicine and sends him to practice with a thermos of hot tea. Kevin's cranky and his nose won't stop running but Chris patiently picks up tissues and washes sweaty sheets. He looks concerned, but that’s got to be Kevin projecting. Kevin knows he's pushing himself too hard, and that's why he's not getting better, but pushing himself too hard is literally his job. 

He's lying in bed, unable to sleep or breathe through his nose, but he’s not making any noise, so he doesn’t know what wakes Chris. He just hears a tap on his door and looks up to see Chris silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

"Hey," he says, and winces at the scrape of his throat. Chris steps into the room and starts collecting used tissues. Kevin can hear a soft hum when he puts too many in his mouth at once. When he's done, he doesn't leave, just stands there in the dark.Maybe he's waiting for Kevin to tell him to go, but Kevin doesn't want really him to. 

"Do you want to stay?" he asks. It's a stupid question. Chris can't want things. But he nods and lies down next to Kevin. He moves smoothly, as if he’s done this hundreds of times.

Chris doesn't breathe, but he radiates warmth. He says his incinerator is always on. Kevin inches closer, too sick to feel weird about it. The next thing Kevin registers is the bed shifting as Chris gets up to start the coffee.

The next night, Chris gets into bed with Kevin like it's normal, and Kevin can't find the words to tell him to go. Kevin's developed a dry, racking cough, and he can’t remember when Chris put his arms around him, but somehow his lungs hurt less now. "I didn't ask him to do that," Kevin tells himself, and "you can't take advantage of a robot," but he feels guilty anyway. 

Kevin gets better, but Chris doesn't stop spending the night in his bed and Kevin doesn't say anything about it. You would think it would be weird, sleeping next to someone who doesn’t breathe, but it’s fine. Nice, even. It feels good to have someone there. Kevin should probably try dating again, but he doesn’t have a lot of time during the season. And—if he’s honest with himself, he’d rather spend time with Chris.

"I looked into your living room last night and Chris wasn't there," says Jimmy on the way to practice one morning. 

Kevin tries to look surprised. "I think he cleans at night sometimes," he suggests. 

"Probably licking the windows clean," says Jimmy. 

Kevin laughs. "Yeah, probably." Kevin's never seen him do that, but one of Chris's internal reservoirs definitely holds window cleaner.

Kevin starts jerking off in the bathroom before bed every night. It's just confusing, he tells himself, having a warm body next to him in bed. But he's not confused. He just wants to fuck a robot. And he can't. Won't. 

He starts spending more time out of the house, picks up girls on road trips a couple of times, trying to distract himself. But Chris keeps smiling at him when he gets home sleeping next to him at night and making Kevin's life run more smoothly than it ever has before. And Kevin keeps wanting him.

 

Kevin always tells himself that Chris can't like things, but he really seems to enjoy it when Kevin gets high. He smiles a lot, anyway, and laughs when Kevin does, so they end up in a loop of giggles. But sometimes that's not what Kevin wants, which is why he lights up a joint as soon as Chris goes downstairs to clean Brady and Jimmy's rooms. He just wants not to think for a while, and it must work, because it feels like no time has passed before the joint's burnt to a stub and Chris is coming up the stairs.

He watches Chris's smile go soft when he sees Kevin sprawled out on the couch. "Having fun?" Chris asks, coming over and sitting down. Chris’ facial expressions are the worst thing, Kevin thinks. They’re too real. 

Kevin touches the crinkled skin at the corner of Chris's eye and shakes his head slowly. Chris's smile fades and he moves closer. This close, he can see that Chris’s skin has no pores and his irises have too smooth a gradient, but he still looks like there’s something going on behind his eyes. It’s unfair, that they can fake that so well. “Why not?” Chris asks.

"Why not?" thinks Kevin. Chris's lips are so close, and if he just leans forward a little...Chris's hands move to Kevin's arms as soon as their mouths touch. His lips are soft and dry, and they don’t feel like they belong to a machine, but they’re not quite human either—just like Chris.

There's a faint smell of smoke when Chris's lips part. It's probably burnt garbage but it smells clean. It makes Kevin think of campfires.

He slides his hand up Chris's back, under his shirt. Chris tips his head down to press his lips against Kevin's neck. Kevin scrapes his nails over Chris's spine and hears what would be a sigh from anyone else. From Chris, it's the soft whir of machinery.

Kevin jerks away. What is he _doing_? 

Chris looks confused. "What's wrong?"

"This," says Kevin. "We—I can't." 

"I thought you wanted—" Chris begins, and Kevin pulls away and stands up, because that's the problem. Kevin wants this, and Chris will do what Kevin wants because he's a fucking robot.

Kevin goes downstairs and calls Rick. Rick has two little kids. Rick could probably use some help. 

"Can you borrow my robot for a while?" he asks.

"Your robot Chris?” Rick says slowly. “Your robot that you and your boys couldn't survive without?" 

"They'll deal," says Kevin. They will. And he’ll…Kevin will have to. "I just...need him out of the house for a while."

"He's getting on your nerves?" Rick guesses. He's not. Kevin loves having Chris around.

"He's always there," Kevin says. “I need some space.”

"Okay," says Rick easily. "Jess and I like Chris. It'll be fun."

Kevin asks Jimmy to walk Chris over to Rick's place before he goes back upstairs, so he doesn't see Chris for a while.

 

Kevin knows Chris is fine. He's a machine. But he can't help wanting to ask Rick how he's doing anyway. It turns out he doesn't need to, though, because suddenly Chris is in all of Rick's stories. They're treating him like a live-in babysitter.

“He makes the craziest faces,” says Rick. “The kids love it. McLaren doesn’t even want a bedtime story anymore if Chris doesn’t come act it out.”

"He's not programmed for that," says Kevin.

Rick shrugs. "He's pretty adaptable."

"You're not worried about leaving your kids with him?" asks Kevin. "He can be a little weird." 

“He’s the most trustworthy babysitter we’ve ever had,” says Rick. "Weird how?"

Kevin can’t actually think of anything. “He uses my Netflix account,” he tries. “And wakes himself up in the middle of the night.”

“That doesn’t sound too weird,” says Rick. 

“It’s weird for a robot,” says Kevin.

“He doesn’t act much like a robot,” Rick agrees. “But he wouldn’t be so good with kids if he did. You should come over," he adds. "I think he misses you." 

"You talk about him like he's a person," says Kevin, and tries not to feel good about the idea of Chris missing him.

"He borrows your Netflix account and you think he's not one?" asks Rick.

 

Chris has been coming over to clean for Brady and Jimmy. Kevin always makes sure to not be around. But either someone's rescheduled or Kevin got the date wrong, because when Kevin goes down to borrow a game from Brady, Chris is there vacuuming, his hand snapped back from his wrist.

His whole face lights up when he sees Kevin, but he schools it into a more neutral expression. Kevin feels his face doing something similar.

"Hi," says Kevin.

"Hi," says Chris. He stops vacuuming and folds his hand back into place on his wrist. He sounds as cautious as Kevin feels. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," says Kevin. "Uh. How are you?" 

"Fine," says Chris. They stare at each other. It’s so awkward, more so because Kevin’s never really felt awkward around Chris before.

Chris waits, but Kevin's got nothing to say. Chris snaps his wrist open again and goes back to vacuuming. When he's done, he turns back to Kevin and asks, "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," Kevin says quickly. Every part of what’s happened has been his fault.

"Then why?" Chris asks.

"It was me," says Kevin. "I couldn’t—I couldn’t keep what I wanted to myself.” 

Chris still looks confused. “I shouldn't have touched you like that,” Kevin clarifies. “I’m sorry.”

"I wanted you to," says Chris.

"You're a robot," says Kevin. "You want what you're programmed to want."

Chris's expression changes, faster than human's could. You could probably get the same expression on a human almost as quickly by punching them in the stomach.

"I have feelings," Chris says.

Kevin doesn't see how he can, but he knows better than to say that. Chris looks at him for a moment longer, then turns around and walks out, his hand still hanging at a weird angle from his wrist.

Kevin can’t wrap his head around the idea of robot feelings. If they have them, how do they work? Where do they come from? Are they real? But maybe that’s the wrong questions. If Chris’ feelings are real to Chris, that’s all that matters.

And if Chris feels things, Kevin's been a dick to him. But he kind of knew that already.

 

A few days later, Kevin takes Chris's warranty card and owner's manual over to Rick's apartment. Chris is on the floor, playing with Ellie. Kevin gives him a tentative smile and Chris looks away.

Rick and Kevin sit in the kitchen. Kevin turns Chris's warranty card over and over in his hands. "You're right; he's a person," says Kevin. "And I shouldn't own him."

"Jessica and I were talking about paying him a salary," says Rick. "So he can have more independence, if he wants it.”

“He doesn’t like going outside,” says Kevin. “But. Yeah. That's a good idea. Jimmy and Brady should pay him for cleaning, too."

Rick nods. "And what about you?"

"He's not cleaning for me anymore," says Kevin. 

“Not at all?” Rick asks.

Kevin rests his head on his hands. “I couldn’t. I needed.” He takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t be around him.”

“Ah,” says Rick, like he gets it now, even though Kevin’s pretty sure he’s not explaining well. He’s not sure he wants to explain at all.

”I never thought of him as a machine," he tries. "But I tried really hard to." 

“Come here,” says Rick, and hugs Kevin tightly. “Okay,” he says. “Now go talk to him.” 

He leads Kevin back into the living room, picks up Ellie, and carries her away. Kevin sits down next to Chris and hands him the papers.

"These are for you."

Chris looks at them curiously. "What should I do with them?" he asks.

"Whatever you want," says Kevin. "They're yours now. You belong to you."

“Oh,” says Chris. After a moment he adds, “Thank you.”

He slowly pages through the manual, even though he must have it all in his head. When he’s done, he looks at Kevin and offers the papers back. "Will you keep them for me?"

That's not what Kevin wanted. Keeping Chris's papers for him seems too much like owning him still. But it's Chris's call.

"Sure," he says. "Yeah. Of course." and Chris smiles at him—the warm one that's not for anyone else. Kevin hasn't seen it in a while.

Kevin puts Chris's manual in the drawer where he keeps his checkbook and contract stuff and all the other papers his mom won't let him throw out. Then he and Jimmy and Brady order in and eat in front of the TV, and everything’s normal. Pre-Chris normal. And then Kevin goes to bed alone and misses Chris so much he thinks Chris might be able to feel it if he has the right kind of sensor.

Not that he needs to. Chris knows how Kevin feels. And Kevin has a pretty good idea of how Chris feels. He just needs to know that Chris is making his own choices.

 

The day before Chris is supposed to come over and clean, he calls Kevin. 

"I didn't know you had a phone," says Kevin.

"I don't," says Chris.

Kevin laughs. "So you're calling from...inside your head?"

"I think the antenna is in my ear."

"Cool," says Kevin, and means it. Chris is amazing.

"So, I'm coming over tomorrow," Chris continues.

"Yeah?" says Kevin, like he wasn't planning excuses to go downstairs right around the time Chris is supposed to arrive.

"I thought we could have dinner after,” says Chris. He sounds nervous. Kevin didn’t know Chris could be nervous, and he kind of likes it.

"Like a date?" asks Kevin.

"Like we used to," says Chris.

So Chris sits on the counter like he used to, and Kevin makes chicken and vegetables and puts aside the garbage for Chris to process while Kevin eats.

Chris is quiet, but he looks happy. Kevin keeps glancing over at him to check.

“So,” he says, when Chris is done with the garbage and has started looking assessingly at the stuff piled in the sink. “How does it feel to be making money?”

"Complicated," says Chris. "But it's nice to be able to buy things."

“Yeah?” says Kevin. ”What kinds of things are you buying?"

Chris reels off a list of things—mostly gifts for the Nash kids, but he’s also brought Jimmy a plant for his under-decorated room.

"Those are all for other people," says Kevin. "Don't you want anything for yourself?"

Their eyes only meet for a second before Chris looks down, but Kevin suddenly can't breathe. 

"I like giving people things," says Chris.

"So what are you giving me?" he asks, keeping his voice light. 

Chris shakes his head. "You already bought me."

Kevin digests that while he finishes eating and Chris cleans up. 

"Do you love me because I bought you?" he asks, finally. He doesn't really want to ask, but he has to, because if the answer is yes he can't do this. 

Chris looks at him, eyes serious, and shakes his head. “I’m not supposed to feel anything," he says. “Loving you is a malfunction.” Suddenly he smiles, his eyes bright. "I'm still within the warranty period," he says. "If you want a better robot."

Kevin smiles back. “There isn’t one,” he says. "You're perfect."

He pulls Chris close. “Uh,” he says. “When I kissed you before. Was that—“

Chris kisses him, and this time Kevin can tell that he doesn’t really know how, but that he wants this. He’s crowding as close as he can, and either he doesn’t know where to put his hands, or he wants them everywhere. Kevin knows the feeling. He has no idea how this works for Chris, though. What if—

“Don’t stop,” Chris murmurs. Kevin runs his fingers over the too-pointy tip of Chris’s ear again, and somewhere inside Chris a fan switches on. Kevin doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, but if he can trust Chris to know what he wants—and he’s starting to—that’s enough.


End file.
